


Conspiracy

by mithrel



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Gen, Gift Giving, Podfic Welcome, Surprise Party, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-17
Updated: 2009-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov turns eighteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conspiracy

The door to Kirk’s quarters buzzed. He looked up from the report he was not-reading and said, “Come in!”

He was expecting Spock or Bones, and so was surprised to see Sulu standing in the doorway. He hadn’t talked much with the helmsman off-duty, and had no idea what he wanted. “Yes, Sulu, what can I do for you?”

“Well, sir, it’s Chekov’s birthday in a month, and I wouldn’t say anything, but he’s turning eighteen.”

“God, he really is that young isn’t he? He’s so competent I keep forgetting.”

“Yes, sir. Anyway, I wanted to throw him a party, and I figured I’d need your permission.”

“This sounds like a scheme, Mr. Sulu. Who else is in on it?” he asked, fixing him with a stern glance.

“No one!” the helmsman protested, then, under his continued stare, mumbled, “Well, Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy. Not Spock, of course.”

Kirk smiled. “Of course. He’d never engage in such frivolity. Of course you can throw him a party. Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with ship’s operations.”

Sulu grinned. “Thank you, sir!”

***

Chekov was getting suspicious. Every time he walked into a room people would stop talking and dart guilty glances at him. And Sulu was no help.

“What’s going on?”

“Hmm?”

“People are talking about me!”

“Are they?” His friend looked a little too innocent.

“Every time I come into a room, they stop talking. They must be talking about me!”

“You worry too much, Chekov.”

“But–”

“Trust me. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Chekov walked away from the conversation resolved to keep his eyes and ears open.

***

“This is harder than I thought. He’s getting suspicious,” Sulu said, at the impromptu meeting in his quarters.

“Only one more week to go,” Uhura reminded him. “And everything’s mostly ready. I’ve got all the decorations for the rec room.”

“And Scotty and I are taking care of the beverages,” McCoy added.

“Aye,” the engineer agreed.

“Just make sure there’s some non-alcoholic drinks there too, OK, Bones?” Kirk put in.

“Yes, sir, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

“We still need food, though, and a cake,” Sulu pointed out.

“That’s no problem, we can use the replicator,” Kirk told him.

“A replicated cake doesn’t seem right, though,” Uhura said.

“Not like we have a choice, is it? Or is someone hiding an oven in their quarters?” McCoy asked.

“Yeah, I guess everything’s ready. How are we going to get him there?”

“Leave that to me.” Sulu said.

***

“Captain, I assure you, Vulcans do not participate in–”

“You’re going if I have to make it an order,” Kirk cut him off.

“But surely one’s life should be celebrated every day, not merely on the anniversary of one’s birth.”

“Spock, birthdays are significant in human cultures. The eighteenth birthday is especially important; it marks the transition from a child to an adult.”

“Surely Mr. Chekov has already proven his abilities to a sufficient degree–”

“Spock.” Kirk cut him off again. “You. Are. Going. Understood?”

Spock pursed his lips slightly, the only visible sign of annoyance. “Yes, sir. I will attend.”

“And bring a present, would you?” Kirk called after him, eliciting a raised eyebrow.

***

Chekov was depressed. It was his birthday, his eighteenth birthday, and no one had so much as mentioned it all day. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he was extremely hurt. He’d have thought Sulu at least would have wished him a happy birthday.

He was getting ready to go to bed early, to get the rest of the day over with, when his door buzzed. He didn’t feel like company, but he answered it anyway.

Sulu stood in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Chekov sighed, and moved to let him pass.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied, not wanting to make Sulu feel bad for forgetting his birthday. “I just had a rotten day.”

“Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up,” Sulu said, his face lighting up. “McGee’s having a guitar concert in the rec room.”

“I do not think so,” Chekov told him.

“You’re upset, you need cheering up. I’m not taking ‘No’ for an answer,” Sulu insisted.

And so he reluctantly let the helmsman steer him out of his quarters and into the rec room.

***

When they got to the rec room, it was dark. Chekov turned to Sulu in confusion. “Is there something wrong with the power?”

Before Sulu could answer, the lights came up to reveal that the rec room was decorated with streamers and balloons. He gaped around the room. All the senior officers were there–Uhura, Dr. McCoy, Scotty, Captain Kirk…even Spock was there, lurking in a corner, nearly out of sight.

“You didn’t really think we’d forget your birthday, did you?” Sulu asked him, grinning.

Chekov grinned back.

“I’m not here,” Kirk told him. “If I were here, I’m sure by the end of the night I’d have to put the entire bridge crew on report–with the exception of Mr. Spock–and I’d rather not do that.”

“Understood, Keptin,” he said, grinning again.

“Here,” Scotty said, giving him a glass of something.

Chekov peered at it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s…” Scotty floundered for a moment, then settled for “It’s green.”

Chekov shrugged, and downed it.

McCoy whistled. “Damn, kid, that stuff’ll drop a grown man!”

Chekov shrugged again. “I have been drinking since I was twelve.”

The next hour was spent eating, drinking (mostly non-alcoholic beverages, since he did have to be on the bridge tomorrow) and talking.

“Hey, you need to open presents,” Sulu said after awhile.

“Presents?” Chekov asked.

“You _have_ had a birthday before, haven’t you?” Sulu teased him.

“Of course I have!” Chekov shot back, annoyed. “I just wasn’t expecting–”

“Well, you got ‘em anyway,” Sulu said gesturing to a pile of brightly-wrapped packages on a nearby table.

Uhura pulled a chair near the table, and grinned at him. “Well, open them!”

Chekov sat down and started unwrapping presents. The first one he opened was from Captain Kirk. It was a stack of chits he could use on his next shore leave.

“Sulu, tell the keptin I appreciate these, since he isn’t here.”

“Gotcha,” Sulu grinned, while Kirk glowered at them both.

The next package was a datapadd. He keyed up the initial entry. “Interstellar Survival Guide?”

Seeing his disappointment, McCoy smiled slyly. “Look inside it.”

He keyed up the first entry, then several more. “This is a list of resorts and clubs on various planets,” he said, confused.

“Sounds like essential survival material to me. Besides, now you’ll know the best place to spend those chits,” McCoy replied.

“Thank you, Dr. McCoy.”

He got a silk screen to hang on his wall from Sulu, a recording of an Antarian ballad cycle and a kiss on the cheek from Uhura, and a sculpture he could swear changed shape when he wasn’t looking (since he hadn’t had _that_ much to drink) from Spock.

He opened the present from Mr. Scott to find a bottle of scotch.

“Scotty, you can’t give him that, he’s underage,” Kirk protested.

“Did you hear something?” McCoy asked. “Besides, Jim, you can’t let him give him alcohol in a glass and object to him giving him a bottle.”

“He’s got a point, Captain,” Uhura said, smirking at him.

“Besides, the lad can handle it. He’s not gonna show up to duty drunk, are ye lad?” Scotty asked Chekov.

“Of course not!”

“I appear to be outnumbered,” Kirk said, conceding defeat. “All right.”

Then they brought out the cake, complete with candles, and everyone (except Spock, who still seemed like he wished he were somewhere else) sang “Happy Birthday.”

He had two slices of cake, and some of the scotch. By that time things were winding down, and he decided he needed to get some sleep, so he and Sulu gathered up his presents to take back to his quarters. “Thank you, everyone.”

“No problem,” Sulu said. “After all, it’s not every day you turn eighteen.”


End file.
